ust here Rotha heard the latch key in the house door, and knew the family were coming home from church. She seized her Bible and ran off up stairs. There it was necessary to wrap herself in her coverlet again; and shivering a little she put her book on the bed side and knelt beside it. But presently poor Rotha was brought up short in her studies. She had been saying comfortably to herself, reading v. 22,—I have not been "angry without a cause"; and I have not called anybody "Raca," or "Thou fool"; but then it came—
"If thou bring thy gift to the altar, and there rememberest that thy brother hath ought against thee, leave there thy gift… go thy way… first be reconciled… then offer thy gift."
Rotha felt as if she had got a blow. Her aunt had "something against her." But, said Rotha to herself, not the thousandth part of what I have against her. No matter, conscience objected; her charge remains the same, although you may have a larger to set off against it. Then am I to go and make it up with her? I can't do it, said Rotha. I do not wish to do it. I wish her to know that I am angry, and justly angry; if I were to go and ask her pardon for my way of speaking, she would just think I want to make it up with her so that she may get me my new cloak and other things.? And Rotha turned hot and cold at the thought. Yet conscience pertinaciously presented the injunction?"first be reconciled to thy brother." It was a dead lock. Rotha felt that her prayers would not be acceptable or accepted, while a clear duty was knowingly left undone; and do it she would not. At least not now; and how ever, that she could not see. Her heart which had been a little lightened, sank down like lead. O, thought she, is it so hard a thing to be a Christian? Did Mr. Digby ever have such a fight, I wonder, before he got to be as he is now? He does not look as if he ever had fights. But then he is strong.
And Rotha was weak. She knew it. She let her eye run down the page a little further; and it came to these words—
"If thy right eye offend thee, pluck it out, and cast it from thee."…
"If thy right hand offend thee, cut it off."…
Duty was plain enough. This luxury of anger at her aunt was a forbidden pleasure; it must be given up; and at the thought, Rotha clutched it the more warmly. So the bell rang for dinner, always early on Sunday. She would rather not have gone down, and did linger; then she heard it rung the second time and knew that was to summon the stragglers. She went down. The rest were at table.
"Mamma," Antoinette was saying, "you must get a new bonnet."
"Why?"
"Mrs. Mac Jimpsey has got a new one, and it is handsomer than yours."
"What does that signify?" was asked in Mr. Busby's curious husky tones and abrupt utterance.